


Small Town Vignettes

by CosmicCthulhu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Muggle Life, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCthulhu/pseuds/CosmicCthulhu
Summary: When Hermione moved into a small town in the English countryside, she was just thinking about hiding away for a little while. But then, three years later Draco Malfoy seemed to have the same idea as hers and suddenly they couldn't ignore their memories of the war and their past lives any longer.Excerpt:They looked at each other with wide eyes and mouths agape. They had both paled considerably and for a second, they both looked like they were going to faint.“Oh, you know each other?” Hermione’s friend asked with a smile, absolutely oblivious to their mutual internal panic, and they were both too stunned to respond to the seemingly innocent question.“We met in… School,” Hermione managed to spell out, still staring at the man with an intense glare.“That’s crazy!” Amelia laughed loudly, leaning towards the man and patting his back in the friendly and just a tad overbearing manner she was known for amongst her friends. “Can’t believe we finally have the key to unlock Mia’s deepest secrets! I’m betting she’s killed someone!”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	Small Town Vignettes

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate all comments and kudos I get!
> 
> English is not my first language, and this work is unbeta'd so all errors are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

“There’s a new guy moving into town!” The black haired woman announced with a large smile, as she stepped inside the small bookshop to meet her brunette friend.

“What about it?” Hermione hummed, still distracted with all the new orders she had to catalogue for the next month and with a few loyal customers already entering the shop to buy more books.

“He’s hot!”

“You say that about every guy below the age of 50, Amelia!” The brunette rolled her eyes, with a small smile and a chuckle.

“You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see him!” The muggle woman laughs, rolling up her sleeves to help Hermione move the boxes around the shop. “I only caught a glance, but he looks like a Greek god!”

“Sure,” The brunette humored her friend, letting her fill the quiet bookshop with idle chatter that ranged from the small town’s newest resident to the _daring_ and new tattoo shop that was going to open up soon, and even the latest movie she had watched on the weekend.

The war had ended four years prior, and although Hermione had stayed for one more year to return and complete her studies at Hogwarts, she had soon completely disappeared from the wizarding world.

Hermione didn’t say goodbye to her friends, nor did she ever hint where she would go, and she had never even voiced her desires to leave without a trace. Hell, the witch had even joked once or twice about her future career as the Minister of Magic ( _which was a position many people believed she’d certainly occupy one day_ ) as she expertly climbed the wizarding social ladder like the Brightest Witch of Her Age should.

And yet, as soon as she had graduated from Hogwarts, she silently packed up her belongings ( _and Crookshanks’ own prized collection of stolen trinkets, of course_ ) and apparated away to a English muggle small town nestled in the middle of the woods, so picturesque and quiet that nothing of notice ever happened at all. 

She had arrived in the town with no real plan for the future. Basking at how _quiet_ and _peaceful_ and _normal_ everything was. Hermione only needed to get away from the wizarding world for a little while. Let herself heal from her still aching scars and still haunted mind.

She needed to run away from the reminders of the gruesome war she had fought in, hide from the suffocating press and reporters that always seemed far too interested in knowing what the Golden Trio was up to recently, and avoid the friendly pressure of the Weasley clan that expected her to just immediately marry her school crush and officially join their family, like nothing bad had ever happened, or like suddenly the love of two teenagers would be the most infallible thing to ever exist.

And now, three years later, Hermione was the owner of a fairly successful bookstore, and was starting to experiment with her own writing as well, she had plenty of lively friends to stow away her feelings of loneliness, and could feel that her mind was slowly healing from all the pain she had suffered.

“Oh my god, Mr. Greek God is coming here!” Amelia squealed, batting away the dust from her skirt, and breaking Hermione from her contemplations. “Quick, Mia, do I look okay?”

“You look fine,” The witch laughed, not even bothering to look outside the large windows, as she was busy dealing with some other patrons.

The bell chimed and the sound of heavy footsteps invaded the shop, as the newcomer calmly browsed through the shelves.The black haired woman bustled through the shop, checking not-so-subtly if her hair was properly pinned down and the witch rolled her eyes, as she counted the money from the recent transaction.

Amelia quickly made her way towards their newcomer, with a charmingly sweet smile, and although Hermione couldn’t see the pair, as they were hidden behind the bookcases, she could hear them both laughing at a cheesy joke the good-natured woman probably cracked.

After some minutes of silence, they both walked to the counter, with Amelia happily announcing that their new neighbor was an avid reader. “Looks like I finally found someone more obsessed with books than you, Mia!”

“I find that hard to believe,” Hermione laughed, finally looking up from the counter to glance at the mysterious new addition to their little quiet town. Immediately, her smile died down, replaced by a deep frown and a grimace, when she looked at the man’s fine pale hair and piercing silver eyes.

“Malfoy!” Hermione let out a loud bellow resisting the urge to hide behind the counter in a ( _admitelly_ ) not so Gryffindor-ish action. 

But could anyone really blame her? The man looked far more intimidating than she last remembered!

And really, why else would he show up in that specific small town in the middle of nowhere, if not to just finish the job his dark lord had started? Hermione cursed herself silently for leaving her wand back in her office. For letting her _guard down_!

“Granger?” The man looked shocked, almost scared to be seeing her there, which promptly piqued her curiosity and mitigated her despair. “You’re still alive?”

They looked at each other with wide eyes and mouths agape. They had both paled considerably and for a second, they both looked like they were going to faint.

“Oh, you know each other?” Hermione’s friend asked with a smile, absolutely oblivious to their mutual internal panic, and they were both too stunned to respond to the seemingly innocent question.

“We met in… School,” Hermione managed to spell out, still staring at the man with an intense glare.

“That’s crazy!” Amelia laughed loudly, leaning towards the man and patting his back in the friendly and just a tad overbearing manner she was known for amongst her friends. “Can’t believe we finally have the key to unlock Mia’s deepest secrets! I’m betting she’s killed someone!”

“Erhm, right,” Draco widened his eyes, with a wry smile, chucking the books on the counter, and silently begging the witch to just end that painfully awkward interaction.

“Can we speak?” Hermione blurted out, mustering all the courage she could to look at the man in the eye, motioning him to a door behind the counter. “I have an office in the back of the shop.”

“Yeah, I think we should talk,” Malfoy mumbled, and he looked like he was trying to ignore the enthusiastic giggles of the muggle woman by his side, but was clearly failing at that.

They entered her office, and the wizard looked very uncomfortable as he sat down on the chair, looking around and scrutinizing the photographs, books and even a dozing Crookshanks in an attempt to not meet the witch in the eye. But Hermione had already recovered from the initial shock, and her fears turned into annoyance at the sight of the pureblood. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” 

“I thought I was running away from my past, but clearly _that_ plan backfired.”

“This is a muggle town,” Hermione huffed, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m aware,” Draco barked out, getting visibly irritated by the impromptu interrogation. Before Hermione could respond with anything else, he interrupted her. “And what are you doing here? Your friends think you died years ago!”

She grimaced at his accusatory tone, and for a second she remained silent, thinking about what she was going to say. “This is my home. I was also running away,” and after a second of hesitation, she added with a quiet tone. “You won’t tell anyone I’m here, will you?”

“That’d be counter intuitive, Granger,” He rolled his eyes. “If we can agree to just avoid each other, we’ll be good.”

“Sounds good to me,” She said, getting up from her chair, and leading the man out of her office.

The man didn’t say anything else, as he gathered his recently bought books and marched out of the bookshop with a frown.

She took that moment to look at Malfoy and gulped at the awful truth that yes, the damned wizard _did_ look like a Greek god. It wasn’t surprising to see why her muggle friend had been so fascinated by his looks.

He had grown taller, much taller than he had been back in school, even back in their eight-year at Hogwarts. And he had filled out nicely, considering the way his muscled arms strained against the sleeves of his _muggle_ shirt. And even his face seemed to have softened up and no longer looked as pointy and harsh as it once had been. 

He no longer looked like the scrawny and pale boy that used to scurry around school with the intention of agonizing and disturb her and her friends. Much like she was no longer the skinny and buck-toothed, bushy-haired girl that used to prattle on every single subject and fact she could cram inside her head.

But alas, a snake is still a snake, no matter how many times it changes its scales, and though he looked healthier and more handsome than what he used to, that didn’t mean he was trustworthy at all.

“Stay away from him,” Hermione warned Amelia with a scornful glare, after the man had disappeared around the corner. “He’s going to cause trouble.”

That night, she had a nightmare for the first time in a year. 

She was back at the Manor, sprawled on the floor once again, with _that_ psychopathic witch hovering over her, carving her with _that_ cursed blade. Malfoy was there, just like he had been in the past, looking at her with his haughty grey eyes. He looked just as scared and nauseous as she was, but he didn’t move when she begged for his help, and he didn’t do anything as his demented aunt butchered her arm.

And the pain felt real. Her tears _were_ real.

Hermione woke up with a scared shout, and Crookshanks ( _her blessed and loved familiar, truly a Guardian Angel of her own_ ) promptly clambered on her bed and didn’t even seem to mind that she was grasping at his fur with more force than usual.

\-----

“Mia, you won’t believe what just happened!” Amelia said, entering the house without knocking. Hermione almost choked on her tea, as she desperately canceled the charmed open book that was floating at her side. 

It had been a few weeks since Hermione found out that Malfoy was her new neighbor and she had been on edge for the first few days, jumping with her wand drawn at the slightest shadow in the night, as if expecting the blond wizard to invade her house and kill her in her sleep ( _Not that she was sleeping much, anyway_ ). 

But after enough time had passed, and she continued to _not_ be murdered in her sleep, Hermione finally managed to accept that the wizard was telling the truth. They were just going to ignore each other for whatever span of time both deemed necessary until their eventual return to the wizarding world.

“What?”

“Draco and I hooked up!”

“WHAT?” Hermione hissed. “Didn’t I tell you not to trust him?”

“Yeah, and you’re completely barmy!” She laughed, ignoring the angry looks the brunette was shooting at her. “The man is perfect. He’s handsome, polite, smart, funny, hot as hell! He’s the most incredible guy I’ve ever met!”

“He’s a Dea-” Hermione had to bite down her tongue, considering that her arguments against Malfoy wouldn’t make sense in the eyes of a muggle. “He’s an asshole! And a bully!”

“Oh grow up, Mia!” The woman shrugged, pouring a cup of tea for herself. “People change! Clearly, you two didn’t get along in school, but he’s fine now! He even buys books from you! You should appreciate his patronage!”

Hermione frowned, deeply irritated by the blue eyed woman dismissing her warnings so easily, already feeling the beginning of a headache creeping into the back of her mind, as she imagined her friend would probably spend days talking and gushing about the man she despised the most. 

Her only hope is for Malfoy to see sense and not take that ‘relationship’ any further than a single hook up. Maybe she’d have to talk to him about it, much to her chagrin.

“I approached him a few days after he showed up in the bookstore, actually,” The muggle kept talking, oblivious to the witch’s conundrum. “I almost melted with the way he looked at me!”

“And you asked him out?” Hermione grunted.

“Actually, he asked me!” Amelia chirped with a smile, grabbing and hugging a disgruntled Crookshanks. “All I needed to do was wear that summer dress Lucy gave on my birthday and he was already drooling for me!” And she continued to ramble about the newcomer and all the wonderful things they did for their date.

Apparently, a date with Malfoy entailed a lavish meal on the most ostentatious local restaurant, a romantic walk along the river’s shore and a lot of other more explicit details that Hermione _really_ didn’t want to think about or else she was going to pass out from mortification.

As soon as she saw the opportunity arise, the brunette quickly changed the subject, unwilling to even remember she now lived a few blocks away from the insufferable blond wizard, no matter how much of a ‘ _generous lover he is!_ ’

When the dark haired woman finally returned to her own home, just across the street, Hermione put on her coat and begrundilly trekked the narrow path that led to Malfoy’s new residence, thanking God, Merlin and Morgana for the fact that the man was out on his yard, because at least she wouldn’t have to actually enter his house.

“Malfoy, don’t hurt her,” The brunette said as a way of greeting, and the man straightened his back, dropping the muggle tools he was using to fix his porch. After a questioning look coming from the brunette, the man simply shrugged with a muttered ‘ _When in Rome..._ ’

“I’m not the monster you think I am, Granger,” He finally addressed her initial accusation as he was getting up and batting away the dust from his trousers.

“I mean it! Amelia may have some flaws, but she’s my friend and a good person. Do _not_ break her heart!” Hermione hissed, very quickly losing her calm demeanor. With a sharp turn, she made her way down the steps, before the man stopped her by calling with an incredibly subdued tone. 

“Granger, wait,” She turned around, and saw that his silver eyes were downcast and tired. He didn’t say anything, and Hermione took the opportunity to stare at his face, and ponder about the heavy bags under his eyes. It looked like Malfoy hadn’t slept in days.

“You have no reason to believe me,” He continued after a sigh of defeat. “But I really do like Amelia, okay? I don't want to hurt her either.”

The witch remained silent, but she did not turn to go run away from his either. Malfoy took the chance to continue his own discourse, this time with a slight and sincere smile. “And she likes you a lot, you know? Throughout the few dates we had she talked a lot about you.”

“Oh?” She hesitated, switching her weight from one foot to another and completely unsure as to how to continue the conversation. Suffice to say it hadn’t really gone the way she was expecting it to go. 

“It’s weird to hear her talking about us without really knowing the truth, right?” She mused after a second of silence, deciding that it was best to be civil with the wizard. “To her I’m not the Brightest Witch of my Age. I’m just a…”

"A cute and innocent-looking bookworm with a very fertile imagination.” Malfoy smirked, but the witch could tell that there was very little malice behind his grin. “And to her, I’m not a... Death Eater am I?”

She knew he was trying to goad her into admitting how his date has described him as, but she only snorted in amusement instead. “You’re just a guy fishing for compliments.”

The wizard shrugged at her response, and they both stood silently staring at each other and trying to ignore the awkward situation that they were in now. Finally, Hermione spoke up again with an awkward smile. “I believe you’re not going to hurt her, Malfoy. But if you do, I’m going to make you regret it!”

Malfoy grimaced, and nodded. “Chances are, we might not ignore each other as easily as before, but can we call it a truce? For Amelia’s sake?”

“We can try,” She said, after a minute of consideration.

\-----

Hermione said goodbye to the few customers that still lingered the bookshop, before she closed it for the night. She hummed a quiet wizarding song while she cleaned up the shop’s shelves, only slightly missing the presence of her extroverted employee that had left earlier in the evening to go on a date with her ( _still mildly insufferable_ ) boyfriend.

It had been a few months since Malfoy had encroached upon her blissful muggle paradise, but she couldn’t say that he was the complete asshole that he used to be. 

They’ve only met a handful of times, courtesy of her nagging blue eyed friend that sometimes insisted they needed to hang out every now and again. They were civil with each other, but kept their distance, preferring to interact with their other friends instead.

Sometimes, their mutual friends would comment or ask something about their respective pasts, especially regarding their school days, but they’d only avert their gazes and nervously laugh, in a fit of ramblings and poorly concocted lies, which only heightened the curiosity of the other residents of the small town.

It was a popular joke between the muggle residents that both Hermione and Malfoy were part of a mafia or secret cult and that they had probably been involved in a number of heinous crimes. The witch wasn’t sure if the truth could be considered worse or not.

One Friday morning, Hermione put on a light dress and got out of her home with a package of homemade baked goods safely stored in her bag, as she made her way down to the mechanic repair shop, where a couple of her friends worked. 

She saw Tony putting his set of wrenches back in his toolbox, while he animatedly talked to a coworker that was currently hidden under a car, fixing an issue that Hermione would probably have no clue where to even begin.

With a loud ‘ _hello_ ’ she made her presence known, and delivered the package to the smiling ginger muggle, that called for the other man to crawl out of the car and enjoy some of the sweets Hermione had brought them.

The other man laughed, wiped his soot-covered face with the rag he was carrying, as he approached the pair, but soon his smile died down when he realized that the brunette was standing right there. 

“Oh,” He looked sheepish, carefully rolling his sleeves down to hide the faded mark ( _or as his muggle friends called it, a cool-looking tattoo_ ). “You again.”

“You’re a mechanic?” Hermione gasped, bewildered. “Do you even know what a car is?” She whispered moments later, after making sure the other muggle men were too busy scarfing down the pies she had brought.

“Of course I know, Granger,” Malfoy scoffed, and added more quietly, matching her hushed tone. “And it isn’t too hard to repair a car with a bit of wandless magic.”

She gave him a humourless laugh, and stared into his eyes with a scowl. “Makes sense. I heard you were good at repairing things back at Hogwarts.” 

As soon as she blurted out that jab, she felt awful, considering the hurt and regretful expression that took over the wizard’s face, but she still added without thinking. “I mean, of course a pureblood like you wouldn’t bother to learn how to actually fix a car the muggle way.” 

Merlin, she was making it worse. This wasn’t what a truce entailed at all. She felt cruel.

“Granger,” He stared at her with a deep frown, and she recoiled when he straightened himself up and snarled. “One day, I hope you’ll stop looking at me like I’m going to commit a crime.”

Hermione scoffed, glaring at the man. “Can you blame me for thinking of the worst case scenario?” Her hair puffed up, and a spark of fire could be seen in the eyes of the gradually furious witch.“ You never even apologized for everything that happened!”

“Apologize?” He groaned, grabbing the witch by her wrist and steering her away from the curious muggles, so that they could talk about it without witnesses. “How can I apologize for a whole war? Would it even matter?”

“It’s far better than not addressing the issue at all! It’s not like Voldemort is going to do it, isn’t it?!”

Malfoy paled at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, and for a second, Hermione swore the man was going to pass out, or puke ( _both being equally horrible reactions, in her opinion_ ). 

She didn’t even mean to continue their spat, but her words were just coming out of her mouth uncontrollably at that point. Like the memories she had bottled up for years finally exploded out and were now hurting someone that was just as aggrieved and damaged from the war as she was. 

She stopped and stared at the man, mustering her courage to apologize to him, but he was the first to break the silence of the room.

“Well I’m sorry, then! Sorry for tormenting you back in school, and I’m sorry my aunt tortured you, I’m sorry my father followed a madman that preached for genocide, I’m sorry I didn’t question anything that was shoved down my throat when I was a literal child!”

“Malfoy...”

“What else do you want from me? I can’t bring back the dead, and I can’t undo all the damage from the war!”

“Malfoy, please stop.”

“Do people think I was _enjoying_ the war? Do you think I was laughing along with the other Death Eaters when I watched that blasted snake eating my professors or when that lunatic was torturing and killing people in my home? My life was a living hell, Granger! I still-”

“Malfoy, I’m sorry!”

He stopped rambling to look at the petite woman, scoffing when he saw her tears, but he still offered her a clean rag from one of the drawers for her to dry her face. “Why are you apologizing, Granger?”

“This isn’t the way we were supposed to be talking about the war. And I’m sorry I let my emotions just run rampant all over the place,” She sniffed, accepting the rag he offered her. 

“And for what is worth, I don’t blame you for any of these things anymore. Really, the war wasn’t your fault. It’d be illogical to think so.”

He sighed and mumbled something Hermione couldn’t quite make out, but with a tentative smile, she stepped aside and opened the door, just as their muggle friends were checking up on them so that they could taste some of the pies she had brought earlier. 

“We’ll figure it out, eventually,” She told him, and he managed to smile, even if it didn’t look sincere at all.

\-----

Hermione was sitting along with her friends ( _and Malfoy_ ) in a makeshift campfire near the abandoned train tracks that was a popular meeting ground among the younger townspeople. They were laughing and slightly drunk while playing cheesy truth or dare games, singing old muggle songs and eating as much junk food as they could.

It had been a few weeks since their last argument back in the mechanic’s shop and things were still slightly awkward between them ( _more so than ever_ ). They knew the only way to truly clear the air would be to properly talk about the war and everything that happened back in Hogwarts, but neither actually had the courage to start _that_ conversation yet.

“Do you know any ghost stories, Drake?” His girlfriend asked, with her head resting in his lap while he played with her hair with a lost look on his face. Hermione watched his grey eyes widening, as if he was caught in surprise, as he clearly wasn’t paying attention to the group’s chattering.

The witch stared at the wizard with mild amusement, watching him scramble up trying to come up with a scary story on the spot. 

Soon enough, he started to weave a tale of a giant snake crawling along the school’s walls and petrifying students with her deadly gaze. Hermione recognized the true nature of the story, making her nauseous with the memories of her time in the hospital wing. It didn’t escape her notice that the blond wizard also looked sick and nervous himself, almost as if he regretted telling the story at all. Her friends, however, looked mildly unimpressed.

“So the kids get to live in the end? That isn’t a horror story then,” Tony laughed, tuning his guitar from. “It’s gotta be more gory, than that!”

“Have you ever told him the story of the Bloody Baron, Mia?” Amelia chimed in, looking at the agitated brunette.

“I think Malfoy knows that one already,” She mumbled under her breath, but still retold the story at the request of her friends. Hermione was mortified by the fact that her voice was trembling, still affected by the earlier story and Malfoy, for his part, returned his gaze to the fire, once again losing himself to his own thoughts.

When she finished talking, the black haired woman jumped up from his lap, and started telling her own story, involving black vans and organ trafficking that was obviously made up.

By the end of the night, and after a long round of stories, Hermione could see that Amelia was left trembling and scared with all the tales, but she was soon calmed down when she was comforted in the arms of her boyfriend that held her close with a kind smile.

The idea that the blond wizard could be a comforting person made no sense at all until she saw how softly he caressed the muggle’s skin. Soon after the brunette got up from her seat at the campfire, spewing excuses about having to open up the shop early in the morning, but truthfully she just didn’t want to see the uncanny vision of a gentle Malfoy any longer.

\-----

Hermione was stacking a new arrival of books on the shelves, looking out the window and sighing when she saw Amelia running across the street, with her hand tightly gripped around Malfoy’s wrist. The wizard looked like he was protesting and trying to pull back from the woman’s clutch, and his hair was slightly askew, but the muggle trudged on, regardless.

“Did you know Draco has never seen a movie?” Amelia shouted across the bookshop, with the disgruntled blond right behind her.

“Wow, shocker,” Hermione tried to sound surprised, but she wasn’t impressed by that fact at all. The wizard rolled his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“I know!” The black haired woman shouted, louldy patting her boyfriend on the back. “It’s like he’s been living under a rock for years!”

“It’s not that weird,” Draco tried to hide his slightly flushed face behind a book that Hermione had recently put on a shelf, but she batted his hand away, fixing the slight mess he had made.

“We are totally going to see Legally Blonde this weekend!” The blue eyed muggle announced loudly, as she jumped behind the counter, ready to greet the few curious customers that were making their way to the shop.”And you’re coming with us, Mia, even if I have to drag you there myself!”

“Well, I guess there’s no use in arguing, then,” Hermione said with a small, friendly smile. And although she and Malfoy weren’t quite friends yet, they were starting to interact more than the usual, polite and restrictive ‘ _hellos_ ’ and ‘ _goodbyes_ ’ after enough insistence on Amelia’s part.

“You bet!” The muggle said with a hearty laugh, pecking the blond man on the lips, and thanking him for ‘ _escorting_ ’ her to the bookshop that day.

When the weekend rolled around, Hermione allowed herself the luxury of closing up the shop earlier than usual and spending some time in her home choosing a more elaborate outfit for her night out with her friends. 

She even dared to cast some charms to control her hair and clear out her skin, completely ignoring the nagging voice inside her head that reminded her how long she had been insisting on a life devoid of relationships. Not that she was actually expecting anything to happen, of course. It had passed three years and she quickly realised that she wasn’t really interested in romancing anyone around her age in that little town ( _or anywhere else, for that matter_ ).

Amelia and Malfoy had arranged to pick her up from her home, and they would meet the rest of their friends back in the movie theater, and Hermione praised herself from barring her shocked look when she realized that Draco Malfoy could actually _drive_ a car ( _And he had a muggle driver’s licence! It felt unreal!_ ) 

They sat down on the back rows of the movie theater. With the couple snuggled together in the center of the row, the other four muggle friends sandwiching them together, while Hermione sat the furthest apart from the wizard and his girlfriend.

Though her friends were completely concentrated in the narrative of the movie, Hermione was too busy analysing Malfoy’s reaction to actually pay attention to anything else that might be happening.

The blond man had his eyes glued at the large screen, slightly paled, probably impressed by the muggle’s ingenuity. He talked very little to the companions by his side, only whispering something in the ear of his girlfriend every now and again that made her laugh lightly and sink further into the man’s arms. All in all, it wasn’t exactly the most ground-breaking movie experience Hermione thought that it was going to be. 

But then, Hermione saw Malfoy laugh, _truly laugh_ , for the first time in her life. 

It wasn’t anything like his wry, cruel laugh, back from their years at Hogwarts, or his forced fake snigger that she’d hear him mustering when they were hanging out as a group in one of the town’s forested parks.

It was a full on belly-laugh, of a carefree young man that was truly enjoying his first experience watching a cheeky comedy film. She was slightly troubled by the fact that he looked even more handsome with a genuine smile on his face.

And it sounded so good, too. And pure, and even funny, that Hermione laughed along even though she hadn’t even paid attention to the joke they were laughing at.

By the end of the film, the friends cheerfully walked along in the parking lot, each going back to their own cars, and Hermione accompanying the couple so that they could drop her off in her home.

“I loved it!” Amelia exclaimed with a smile. 

“It was quite nice,” Malfoy hummed with a slight smile, and Hermione could see by the way he looked at her that he wanted to talk about his experience more in depth, but couldn’t quite express himself in front of a muggle.

“I think it was... enlightening,” Hermione commented, looking at Malfoy. The black haired woman laughed and mocked the brunette by her quirky comment, but the witch just shrugged her shoulder and didn’t elaborate.

\-----

“Sometimes he’ll cry in the middle of the night,” Amelia told her one day, with an unusual serious and somber voice, while they both cleaned up the bookshop after yet another busy day. 

The blue eyed woman had spent the majority of the day quiet and subdued, which was definitely unusual for her. The brunette was concerned and had even attempted to broach the subject a couple of times throughout their shifts, but she hadn’t said a thing until the late evening.

“Oh?” Hermione wasn’t really surprised. She has experienced countless sleepless nights in which she also woke up crying, screaming and begging for help, as she had nightmares of her past. Everyone that fought in the war did, as far as she knew.

It was one of the reasons she decided to just stay single for so long. After all, how could she open up and explain her panic attacks if she couldn’t actually tell the other person what has really happened?

“Yeah,” Amelia muttered quietly, staring blankly at one of the book covers she had picked up from the floor. “I often ask him about it, but he just says it’s a nightmare and then goes back to his own home to sleep. He never acknowledges it the next day”

Hermione didn’t respond. She didn’t even know what to say, and she felt like she wasn’t the right person to offer advice with anything remotely connected to Malfoy’s love life, but the woman continued talking, undeterred by her friend’s silence.

“In a way, he reminds me of you.” 

“How come?”

“Always… Sad. And somehow you both act older than what you are,” She said, refusing to meet her eyes with the witch. “Like you both lived through something unimaginable.”

Hermione laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but it came out forced and humorless. When did this sudden wisdom and insight have creeped up in that woman’s mind?

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not characters from your dramatic romances.”

“How would I know? You two are the town’s most mysterious citizens,” She voiced it like it was a joke, but Hermione could see the hurt in her eyes and the sneer in her smile. 

‘ _You two are the only ones that can understand each other,_ ’ Amelia whispered, clearly without the intention of being heard, but the brunette could still make out the words.

Hermione didn’t acknowledge her friend’s observation, and there was nothing helpful she could add to that conversation. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders and started rambling about a new book she had started to read a couple of days ago, quickly changing the subject.

A couple of days after that conversation, Hermione saw Malfoy walking down the street, helping an old lady carry her groceries back to her home. 

She took a moment to observe him easily interacting with the muggle ( _with his friendly neighbor, her mind immediately corrected_ ). He had a tired, but surprisingly gentle smile, his shoulders were relaxed and he walked down the street with small steps to allow the petite lady to accompany him, even though his long stride could probably reach the lady’s house much quicker than her.

Hermione called for him after he said his goodbyes to the neighbor, and he didn’t avoid her like he’d probably have done in the past. In fact, he approached her with that strange gentle smile still playing in his lips, and in turn, the witch smiled back at him.

They spent that whole afternoon talking, while they ate some croissants from a popular bakery in the small town. 

They discussed the war and how they were coping with their own nightmares. They talked about their own jobs and lives that they built in the town, and they lightly bantered and joked about their own antics with their muggle friends. 

Finally, by the time the moon was already rising in the sky, they both apologized sincerely for everything that happened in their past. For the way they bickered during Hogwarts, and the awful things that happened during the war _(though they both recognized that none of that was really their own fault_ ). And they had both glady forgiven each other in turn, with the promise of a new start.

They left that bakery with friendly smiles, and a promise that they’d each find a new shoulder to lean on, in case they needed to talk about the war or even problems that could only be understood and dealt with as a wizard or a witch. 

“We’re in this together, I suppose,” She had told him when they were already heading different paths to get back to their own homes.

\-----

Hermione was magically trying to mend her sofa back together that her half-kneazle had destroyed with his tiny violent claws, when she heard the sound of frantic footsteps resounding from her porch.

Before she could even get up to see what was going on, Draco was already unlocking and ramming her door open, leaping across her living room and ducking behind her kitchen counter, like he was running for his life. With a flick of his wand, he slammed the door shut, while Crookshanks ran outside the house to try and peer at what possible threat could have arisen in the sleepy town.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed, grasping her wand tightly, trying to see if maybe the Dark Lord rose from his grave _again_ , but she could see nothing out of the ordinary through the windows. 

That is, until two tall and dark figures appeared on the other side of the street. She narrowed her eyes, trying to take a better look at them and ready to cast a hex or a curse at anyone else that dared to invade her home.

“Blaise and Theo are here. I can’t let them see me,” Draco spat out from his hiding place, and made sure to clarify that she shouldn’t go out to attack them.

“I thought they were your friends?”

“They are!” Draco cried in exasperation, still trying to make himself smaller behind her counter. “And I’m sure they have good intentions, too. Now hide me before they drag me back to my mother!”

She peered out the window, and to her horror, Zabini was holding Crookshanks in his arms, while Nott talked to his taller friend, looking around the houses with a suspicious glare.

Hermione had never interacted much with the two former Slytherins, and she was sure that there was no way they knew Crooks was her familiar. But the damned cat used to walk freely around Hogwarts, often being sighted at the Lake, the library and even the common rooms, including the sodding Slytherin’s dungeons.

Which meant that the two wizards might recognize the half-kneazle. 

Which meant that her glorious days of anonymity were in jeopardy. And although she was starting to like him, Hermione swore under her breath that she was going to kill Malfoy for his unintentionally stupid move. 

Nott glanced at her house, and though she couldn’t quite be sure if he saw her or not, she was soon also diving down next to the wizard to get away from the windows.

“Move! I’m hiding too, you twit!” She said, also ducking behind her counter, and nudging the large man with her elbow in an attempt of carving out space for herself. “If they see me, they will certainly tell the Daily Prophet! This is not something I want at all!”

“Then stop screeching like a banshee, witch!”

Hermione huffed and batted the man in the arm, but quieted down all the same, trying to listen to any signs that the two wizards were still outside her home. After a tense minute of complete silence, the witch dared to peek outside her window.

She let out a breath of relief when she saw that her porch was clear from any visitors. She looked at Malfoy, who remained stuck on the floor with a furrowed brow, and she silently indicated that she was going to get a closer look at the street to make sure that they were gone.

“I think they left,” She said, opening the window, allowing an angry Crookshanks to enter the house again.

“Thank Merlin,” Draco sighed, getting up from the floor and stretching his cramped muscles.

“Thank Hermione, you mean!” The brunette snarked with a scowl, and pointed at the house right in front of hers. “Why didn’t you hide in your _girlfriend’s_ house?”

“What would I tell her?” The man threw his hands in the air. “' _Hey honey, I actually ran away from a bethroral contract at home, and I kinda need to hide here, don’t talk to strange wizard men, love you!'_ You’re simpler to understand my plight!”

“A bethroral contract?”

“Well, yeah,” He groaned, trying to fix his hairdo with his hand, but completely failing at that. He looked nervous and tired, searching for words to explain the situation. “My mother tried to marry me off to Astoria Greengrass. Honestly it’s tiring to even think about it.”

Hermione wanted to offer some words of comfort for the man, but he held a hand up, asking her to not linger on that subject. Which was fine by her, it’s not like she had any idea on how to discuss that backwards pureblooded culture, anyway.

He also made his way to the window, scouring the streets outside to make sure that the threat was gone, and with a smile, he thanked Hermione for the temporary hiding place, as he opened up the door and stepped outside her house.

“Ah! Would you look at that!” Theodore’s voice came from the edge of her porch, on a blindspot she hadn’t even considered that it existed before. “Draco Lucius Malfoy!”

“And Hermione Granger,” Zabini talked with a less amused tone by Nott’s side and with a raised eyebrow. “Now that is very interesting. Considering that everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“Cut it out, both of you,” Draco said with an icy sharp tone, glaring at the two former Slytherins, and subtly reaching for his wand. Instinctively the witch stepped back, in an attempt to hide behind the taller man.

“Relax, Draco,” Theo raised his empty hands, showing he didn’t want to fight with the blond wizard. “We just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“We aren’t going to haul you back to London to marry anyone,” Zabini rolled his eyes, as his own odd way of comforting his friend. 

“And you won’t tell my mother where am I either?” The blond man checked, slowly putting his wand away when both men nodded. He seemed to relax, but then added, with a dangerous glint in his eye. “And you better not tell anyone that Hermione’s here.” 

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco!” Nott laughed, ignoring the murderous glare of his friend, and patting him on the back, looking at Hermione. “I think we have a lot to catch up, eh?” 

“Oh!” Amelia’s voice resounded from across the street, as she skipped her way to Hermione’s porch. All the four people standing there turned their heads to stare at the cheery muggle woman. “More school friends?”

“No,” Hermione scoffed at the same time that Draco smiled and said “Yes.”

“This is so cool!” The dark haired woman gushed, reaching to shake the hands of the two amused men. “I’m Amelia! Drake’s girlfriend! It’s so nice to meet you both”

“A lot to catch up indeed,” Blaise agreed with the previous statement of his friend, as they invited themselves into Hermione’s house to talk to the wizard, the witch and the muggle. 

The two visiting wizards were happy to share some stories regarding the Hogwarts days, granted, they embellished some events, while also changing details and completely making up some other stories to make it seem like a more normal and lively school. The wizards spent hours talking about the bickering and fighting that often happened in the library involving the two smartest students of the school, much to Amelia’s awe.

By the end of the night, Blaise and Theo had repeatedly assured that they wouldn't be revealing where Malfoy and Hermione were hiding, only that they were still alive, healthy, and quite possibly happy.

“You can’t keep your friends thinking you’re dead, Granger,” Nott told her with a cheeky wink, and she rolled her eyes at the wizard, though she knew he was telling the truth.

The two wizards left the town via apparition, and only Merlin knew where they would be headed next, but at least Malfoy had also guaranteed to the witch that his friends could be trusted not to spill anything. 

For the rest of the night Hermione mulled in her bed if she should actually go back to her life as a witch or not, gingerly looking at her still ugly and red scar on her arm. If only she could get rid of that horrible word marred on her skin, perhaps she’d gather enough courage to face _that_ world again. 

\-----

Hermione was tired and uncomfortable standing in a tight short dress and painful high heels that Amelia had insisted she needed to wear for Lucy’s birthday party.

‘ _There’s going to be people coming from London for this party, Mia! It’s your chance to get you a hot boyfriend for yourself!_ ’

Hell, how did she allow herself to be swayed with this lousy pretext? She drained her glass with a huff and wobbled over the open bar to get another drink, ignoring the buzz in her head that suggested that she really should stop drinking for the night.

The brunette looked around the lousy club, trying to find any of her friends so that she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, but it was too dark and too crowded for her to see properly.

Only then had she realized that she could be in trouble, considering that she was alone in a sketchy nightclub located in an unfamiliar neighboring town, with plenty of drunk and pushy people and very loud music and bright flashing lights making her dizzy.

Suddenly the air felt thinner, her breathing grew erratic, and she started to feel tears brimming her eyes as she tried ( _unsuccessfully_ ) to find a way out of the club and possibly get somewhere safe so that she could calm herself down. Hermione was desperately looking over her shoulder, with her traitorous brain spewing out thoughts that maybe Bellatrix had managed to survive the war and she was in that very same club, waiting to attack.

“Granger!” She was gasping out like a fish out of water when she felt a calloused hand touching her shoulder. The brunette trembled and recoiled, but the hands didn’t pull away, instead they gently steered her away from the crowd and closer to a quiet hidden corner at the club. 

“Granger, look at me,” The same voice repeated, and slowly the witch realized that she was familiar with that voice. It was low and gravely and it trembled slightly, as if the man was also nervous. Reluctantly, she raised her gaze to look at Malfoy’s concerned grey eyes.

“Breathe with me, Granger,” He prodded, and she obeyed without question, matching his deep and slowed inhales and exhales, which promptly allowed her to breathe properly and to think calmly again.

“I don’t-” She bit her lip and looked around, scorning the crowd. She sighed in defeat, embarrassed to have had a panic attack in the middle of a party “Thank you, Malfoy. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I don’t like crowded places either,” He told her quietly, still touching her shoulders gently and making sure that they stayed in the quiet corner. “We should go back home.”

Hermione nodded silently, straightening up her back and following Malfoy so that they could find Amelia and go back to their small and quiet village. The blue eyed woman questioned why the pair wanted to leave so early in the night and she seemed bothered by their lack of proper explanation. 

“I’m feeling ill, Amelia. I’d rather go home to sleep,” Hermione spat out, annoyed, and Malfoy was quick to agree, with an offer to drive her back to her house.

“Fine, you both killjoys go back home and I’ll just enjoy the party like a proper young adult,” The muggle said with a wry laugh and the pair didn’t even bother with a proper reply, already running back to Malfoy’s car.

The ride back home was completely silent and for that Hermione was even more grateful to the blond wizard.

\-----

“We broke up,” Amelia announced bluntly, to Hermione, stepping inside the bookshop with a forlorn expression on her face. The witch dropped the book she was looking at to hug her friend tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Amelia!” She whispered in her ear, unsure what else to add.

“I’m the one that dumped him,” She snorted in a humourless laugh.

“Why?” The brunette broke the hug to look at her. “I thought you were both getting along so well!”

“Draco is still a wonderful man. And I still love him very much,” The witch noticed her blue eyes were red and puffy, as she sighed, melting into Hermione’s embrace, and as if sensing the pressing question, she quickly added.“But I can’t keep him away from you. He loves _you,_ Mia.”

“He doesn’t! He despises me!” Hermione gasped, and she was bewildered when the muggle stubbornly shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Amelia!”

“He told me the same thing. But I’m not dumb, you know?” She quipped and chuckled sadly, sitting on her bench behind the counter. “And you should stop pretending you don’t like him, Mia. You spend more time staring at him than reading books, and that’s a _bold_ statement to make.”

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked after a moment of awkward silence, and the muggle shrugged with a nod. “Was he-”

“He looked relieved,” Amelia interrupted her. And the black haired woman suddenly got up on the ladder to clean up the highest shelves, even though they both knew it wasn’t really necessary, while Hermione pretended to ignore the quivering shoulders and pitiful sniffing coming from her friend.

The rest of the day at the claustrophobic bookstore was uncomfortable and suffocating for both women, and Hermione couldn’t be more thankful for when the closing hours rolled around, as she quickly locked up the shop and practically ran back home to her blissful isolation.

At night, Hermione felt her chest tightening with a feeling she couldn’t possibly describe. She cried in her bed and she wasn’t even sure _why_ she was crying at all.

\-----

“Heard you broke up,” The brunette approached the man with a sheepish smile, carrying some croissants in a bag to share with him. She sat by his side and Draco just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He said after a minute of silence.

“Are you... alright?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” He said with a shrug. “I really do like Amelia, but it’s too difficult to hide so many things about my life from her,” He was staring at his branded arm as he said that. 

As summer and the heat had rolled around, the man started to wear short-sleeved shirts, exposing his Dark Mark, much to his and hers chagrin. Hermione didn’t even dare to do something similar, as her horrible scars were harder to explain than a seemingly innocuous drawing and charming them away was often uncomfortable.

Their friends constantly suggested that he could just touch up that tattoo at the new shop that had opened up a while ago, but the man was always mortified and bothered by their idea.

“Oh. I see,” She said after a while, gripping at her scarred arm and staring at his mark.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back to the wizarding world?” Draco asked her softly, almost in a wishful whisper. She didn’t even mind that he had changed the subject so quickly.

“I don’t know. Four… Almost five years ago I wasn’t thinking about running away in the first place,” She hummed, and tried to ignore the way he deflated at her answer. She looked at him, meeting his mercurial eyes with her whiskey-coloured ones “Are you going to go back?”

“I wasn’t supposed to stay here for so long. I still need to fulfill my role as the heir of my family.”

She grabbed his hand tightly, and looked at him with knitted brows, the man held his breath and looked startled, but he didn’t pull away. She touched his mark and ignored the way he flinched at the strength of her grip. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“I-” He choked up and swallowed a sob. He averted his gaze from her, and stared at the cloudy sky. “We can’t run away forever, can we?” 

“Maybe we don’t need to run away anymore,” Hermione muttered, with a sudden idea conjuring up on her mind. 

“Come with me,” She said, still gripping his arm, but this time, her hold was gentle and she was biting down her lower lip with a nervous smile. She guided him into the tattoo parlor that their friends often gushed about and the town’s residents often bemoaned about.

Within the next hours, they discussed and arranged with the tattoo artists at the shop some new designs and art styles to cover up the awful-looking mark in his arm. ( _And much to Hermione’s amusement, one of the artists had even criticised how edgy and tacky a snake and a skull were as a tattoo design overall_ ). 

By the end of the day, they had an set an appointment for the cover up, and much to Hermione’s surprise, Malfoy had even convinced her and arranged for her to cover up her own scars with some much more pleasing intricate composition ( _and she’d be eternally thankful for the artists for their discretion and lack of judgement regarding those awful scrawls in her arm_ ).

It seemed so simple, yet just the thought of having their scars covered and veiled under symbolic tattoos was enough to put her mind at ease. Maybe they didn’t need to run away anymore, after all.

\-----

She checked the bag’s contents for one last time, making sure she had everything carefully packed away as it should. Crookshanks at her side was also carefully staring at the insides of the satchels, as if he was also making sure his premium cat food and favorite toys were safely stored away, while also judging every single piece of clothing the witch owned. 

She heard a knock at her door and she didn’t even need to check before she let the blond man in with an unlocking spell and a cheerful greeting. Malfoy entered her house and softly kissed her brow, as she basked and melted into his embrace. 

“Have you packed everything up?” He asked her, with his own heavy bags hanging from his shoulders.

It had been a few months since they had gotten their arms covered up and only a few weeks since they fully admitted to each other that perhaps Amelia wasn’t wrong when she observed that they _felt_ something for each other ( _Something that wasn’t hate or contempt, as they would often tell her in turn_ ).

And now Draco sported a beautiful roaring lion surrounded by daffodils, calla-lilies and hyacinths, while Hermione had tattooed a koi fish turning into a dragon surrounded by lotus flowers. 

These tattoos didn’t negate their entire history, of course. They still had nightmares, memories and other scars that couldn’t simply disappear, no matter how much they wished it could. 

But now they weren’t ashamed of wearing short-sleeves anymore and now they had plenty of tales and good memories to tell their old friends about their time in a muggle small town. And more importantly, now Hermione and Draco had someone to hold, talk, understand and comfort each other during their sleepless nights. They learned how to forgive and let the past go, instead of running off to a secluded little town start a new life.

“Yes,” Hermione smiled at Draco, grabbing her baggages and taking a hold of his hand, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Let’s go back home.”


End file.
